03-28-2021, 10:02 AM
I lost and it meant nothing. God was dead, died a long time ago. Time, the only God that matters made sure of this.
It used to be when it happened I would see people smiling in the back. Tonight it happens and no one cares. The mission was simple. For as much as I am just the so-called petty, vindictive piece of shit, I meant every word I said. It was my job to make it evident to the man that he was going to be nothing more than a minor stepping stone in a game just not meant for us anymore.
I tried. I really did. My body isn't what it used to be, I am not anywhere near as agile as I used to be. These wounds, they aren't going to heal like they used to. Everything was done in vain. Cid would one day get his rude awakening but it wouldn't be from me. It would be up to time to now prove me right when the inevitable would occur. It wouldn't be because he wasn't once good enough. It would just happen because Time is a mother fucker, a spiteful God with no cares for futile attempts at reliving past glories and nostalgia.
As the medic attended to my cut open forehead, I question what was even the point. I couldn't do anything.
Looking up as the main event started, I smile. At least I robbed us both of the indignity of him having to make the feeble attempt here. He could watch his f***** partner get massacred by a real man. The smile is short-lived I cough and holy shit does it hurt. Leaning down, I break into a coughing fit and just wish the medic would do the right thing and put me out of my fucking misery.
The medic glances at me and tells me to lay there for a bit. Then she goes back to her phone. It was just another day for her.
I watched the match a bit longer, already growing bored of it all. It wasn't until the crowd began to roar I assumed things would end and it would all be-
It was then looking up I could see the crippled idiot coming down the ramp.
Just, why?
Why?
Fucking why?
I wish I could say he achieved something going through me but he didn't. I am nothing more than a used old bitter old man. We'd both be better off dead. Watching him get into the ring, I try to remember him for what he was. This poor imitation, this weaker, slower depressing form, driven by nothing more than will alone. It was a tragedy waiting to happen.
Just let him be happy. Even if it's just for a minute.
Maybe that's the only way to look at it. I don't know. It'll end horrifically but sure.
Something strange begins to unfold as I am watching this though, trying my damnedest not to cough. For some reason one of the retarded blondes comes out of no where. Just as the match seems ready to end as it should, Cid and his handler being handily crushed-
Are you serious?
...
The crowd boos as the ending comes to be and then all I feel is pain. I ignore it, I can't help it now. I laugh.
"Haha- Aahh- hahahahhahahahahaha! HAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
It hurts. It fucking hurts to laugh and I don't care. The medic looks at me briefly, clearly annoyed and I give her the finger. She looks upset and that's her problem. I begin to cough, interrupting this and it doesn't matter. What a cruel, silly, joke that was.
Cid Turner is the new World Champion through sheer idiocy brought on by random dumb luck. Which has always been a fascinating attribute to possess in the wrestling industry as a whole.
He's a walking tragedy waiting to happen but he wanted his five minutes of fame back. I wasted all efforts just as I've wasted everything else. My talent, my looks, my time. There would never be a reemergence of my bright shiny star. I guess Cid just got his wish. By sheer happenstance.
He was a pathetic mockery of the man he used to be. I'd never admit it but I still felt something coming on. I bet he was going to have a great fucking week. Better than everyone else's.
I need a drink and a noose.
It used to be when it happened I would see people smiling in the back. Tonight it happens and no one cares. The mission was simple. For as much as I am just the so-called petty, vindictive piece of shit, I meant every word I said. It was my job to make it evident to the man that he was going to be nothing more than a minor stepping stone in a game just not meant for us anymore.
I tried. I really did. My body isn't what it used to be, I am not anywhere near as agile as I used to be. These wounds, they aren't going to heal like they used to. Everything was done in vain. Cid would one day get his rude awakening but it wouldn't be from me. It would be up to time to now prove me right when the inevitable would occur. It wouldn't be because he wasn't once good enough. It would just happen because Time is a mother fucker, a spiteful God with no cares for futile attempts at reliving past glories and nostalgia.
As the medic attended to my cut open forehead, I question what was even the point. I couldn't do anything.
Looking up as the main event started, I smile. At least I robbed us both of the indignity of him having to make the feeble attempt here. He could watch his f***** partner get massacred by a real man. The smile is short-lived I cough and holy shit does it hurt. Leaning down, I break into a coughing fit and just wish the medic would do the right thing and put me out of my fucking misery.
The medic glances at me and tells me to lay there for a bit. Then she goes back to her phone. It was just another day for her.
I watched the match a bit longer, already growing bored of it all. It wasn't until the crowd began to roar I assumed things would end and it would all be-
It was then looking up I could see the crippled idiot coming down the ramp.
Just, why?
Why?
Fucking why?
I wish I could say he achieved something going through me but he didn't. I am nothing more than a used old bitter old man. We'd both be better off dead. Watching him get into the ring, I try to remember him for what he was. This poor imitation, this weaker, slower depressing form, driven by nothing more than will alone. It was a tragedy waiting to happen.
Just let him be happy. Even if it's just for a minute.
Maybe that's the only way to look at it. I don't know. It'll end horrifically but sure.
Something strange begins to unfold as I am watching this though, trying my damnedest not to cough. For some reason one of the retarded blondes comes out of no where. Just as the match seems ready to end as it should, Cid and his handler being handily crushed-
Are you serious?
...
The crowd boos as the ending comes to be and then all I feel is pain. I ignore it, I can't help it now. I laugh.
"Haha- Aahh- hahahahhahahahahaha! HAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
It hurts. It fucking hurts to laugh and I don't care. The medic looks at me briefly, clearly annoyed and I give her the finger. She looks upset and that's her problem. I begin to cough, interrupting this and it doesn't matter. What a cruel, silly, joke that was.
Cid Turner is the new World Champion through sheer idiocy brought on by random dumb luck. Which has always been a fascinating attribute to possess in the wrestling industry as a whole.
He's a walking tragedy waiting to happen but he wanted his five minutes of fame back. I wasted all efforts just as I've wasted everything else. My talent, my looks, my time. There would never be a reemergence of my bright shiny star. I guess Cid just got his wish. By sheer happenstance.
He was a pathetic mockery of the man he used to be. I'd never admit it but I still felt something coming on. I bet he was going to have a great fucking week. Better than everyone else's.
I need a drink and a noose.